


hold me closer (and don't let go)

by raspertree



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: A little angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, F/F, Fluff, Reunion Fic, good guy agent young, post-Season 1, protective shelby, soft toni rights, toni's love language is piggy back rides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28629678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raspertree/pseuds/raspertree
Summary: “Do they always have to turn a life or death situation into some lovey-dovey moment?” Dot fake whispers to Fatin and Martha across from them.“Well, at least they stay on brand.”
Relationships: Shelby Goodkind/Toni Shalifoe
Comments: 7
Kudos: 479





	hold me closer (and don't let go)

Toni hates being bored.

She’s an active person, needs action, activity and something to occupy her hands most times. The whole “sit around and wait for instruction” shit has never been her thing. Even now, when she should feel the security that comes with being rescued off a deserted island, she her hands fidget with her blanket and there's a prickliness under her skin making her feel like there’s something so _wrong_ happening. Why are they still here? How long is this quarantine supposed to last? Why hasn’t she been able to talk to Mrs. Blackburn or even her case manager from the state yet?

It doesn't help that now, unlike before, she can’t just dig her hands into the sand or make a sand angel when the agitation becomes too much to handle, when her hands shake and flex looking for something, anything to keep them occupied. Her eyes find the little origami swans she made out of sheets of crossword puzzles she found in her bedside drawer. She doesn't even have any more paper left.

 _It’s stupid_ , she thinks, _to miss sand_. But she does. She misses the feeling of the soft grit rubbing against her skin. She misses how it grounded her and soothed the unease that built up. She misses how the sand felt when she knuckled her hands into it, making little mounds before flattening them, and then repeating the process; or how it slipped through her fingers when she would take a handful only to open her fingers and watch it all fall into a heap in front of her. If her case manager was there, he would probably call it a “healthy release,” or whatever.

She didn’t even have a chance to put some in an empty mini vodka bottle as a keepsake, like she did the first time they saw a plane and falsely thought they were hours away from being saved. Their actual rescue from the island happened so fast it was like a blur and came almost completely out of the blue---no plane flew by first, no fishing boat saw their distress fire, not even a swanky Hawaiian cruise ship accidentally veered off course and found them. Instead, two helicopters descended on the massive cliff overlooking the whole island, the same cliff Rachel, Leah and Shelby hiked on one of their first days there. Nobody moved, the shock paralyzing their muscles. Their eyes didn’t want to believe it at first, minds immediately assuming it was just an illusion from too much sun and too little food. They didn’t want to experience the hope they had mostly abandoned at that point to just be disappointed once more. 

Dot was the first to come to her senses, whooping and hollering, leaping up from her spot by the fire with Rachel where she was checking the injury on the nub where her hand used to be. The rest of them followed suit, yelling and hugging, as they used the rest of their energy to stumble up the steep cliff. The coast guard, EMTs, or whoever they were handed out water bottles and protein bars, looking a little too calm given the circumstances, before corralling them into the helicopter. Toni ended up on one end with Shelby beside her and Marty next to Fatin, looking out the window one last time at the island that held them hostage for the last three months. 

Now, after who knows how many days “quarantined” by the Feds, reading those stupid magazines and staring at walls, all she could think of doing was seeing the others. 

Even now, during lights out, when she’s supposed to be sleeping, she can’t help but feel that ache of loneliness deep in her chest, squeezing. Since being here, she’s woken on more than one occasion reaching out to the air next to her, unconsciously searching for the warm arm, hand, or back that had always been beside her for the months they were stranded on the island. 

That _fucking_ island. 

She just knows she will never be able to go to a beach again without feeling the sharp stab of hunger as soon as she hears waves breaking on the shore. Or anytime she smells salty fish, to be honest. 

When she was ten, she was sent to a state mandated counseling session to help her “work through her issues.” Instead, she sat through almost the entire session with her mouth closed tight. The counselor from the state was patient for most of the time, asking questions every once in a while but also falling silent when Toni didn’t respond. Toni can still remember the soft weight of the counselors hand on hers before she left, and her low voice, not patronizing but understanding, telling her it was common to experience memory loss when it came to trauma, especially with the “bad parts,” and that she would be there to talk with her when Toni was ready. 

This turned out to be a straight up lie. One, because Toni has never been able to forget the “bad parts,” and, two, because she was given a new counselor the next time she had a session who’s breath was rank and talked to her like she was four. 

She can still remember the constant ache in her stomach from hunger, the thrumming in her head from dehydration and looking upwards at the sky in search of a plane that never came, and weakness in her limbs the longer as the weeks wore on from malnutrition; muscles she’d had for years, from playing basketball and waitressing heavy plates, shrunk from the lack of consistent meals and small portions. She can also still remember that unending worry biting at her, of never being found, living the rest of her probably short time on earth in a constant circle of hope and disappointment when each day ended in no sign of help, before dying on the island and maybe even being forced to witness the others die. 

She turns onto her front, she shoves her head under the pillow as if that will hide her from the lingering unease, either from the past of being on the island or the present of being alone in some government building, away from her new family, she’s not sure but it’s probably both. 

She decides to use one of Fatin’s favorite coping mechanisms by thinking of the future: finally seeing the others, getting out of this hell hole, eating twice her body weight in never ending pasta bowls, and holding onto Shelby and never letting her go. 

_Fuck,_ she misses Shelby….her blue eyes that are so full of this patient understanding, her hands that always seemed to be reaching for Toni to brush down her hair or to hold her hands or face, and her scent of salt, sweat and citrus from the lychees that clung to her. 

After spending every day and night together, being apart feels like there’s always this empty space beside her to the point where she had to stop herself from begging the agents to see the others, or even just her. She doesn’t care if it would only be through a glass screen or fucking hazmat suits or _whatever_ so it’s still quarantine-friendly, she just needs to see for herself that they are okay. Anytime she asks about anyone, she’s monotonously informed that they are “doing as well as can be expected,” and just _what the hell_ is she supposed to do with _that_ . It could either mean they are just dying of boredom like her or actually dying somewhere in a hospital ward from some, like, fatal disease that no one’s ever heard about before because it only existed on that _one_ deserted island. She knows Rachel’s nub was mostly healed by the time the helicopters found them but what if it ended up being infected? And Shelby’s ankle which got twisted on a branch on the trek to the helicopters. Even with Toni carrying her on her back the rest of the way to the top, it was still swollen to the size of a softball by the time they landed at the government bunker. Shelby insisted it wasn’t that bad and would probably be better with a little ice, but Toni could see the pain in her eyes and wince in her brows when she tried applying pressure on it. 

Twisting onto her side, she starts doing those deep breathing exercises Fatin would make them all do to “chill the fuck out” when the days started to add up to a number nobody wanted to say out loud and the weight of the situation bore down on them a little more than usual. 

She moves to the edge of the twin-sized bed, just short of falling off, before closing her eyes. Like this, she can almost imagine Shelby filling the space behind her, arms wrapped tight around Toni with her face nestled into the back of Toni’s neck. It was one of the many positions they slept in together on the island—and her favorite. 

She squeezes her eyes shut harder, like if she could focus hard enough then she could feel the warm, steady breaths of Shelby and the small circles her thumbs would rub on her skin that she became so accustomed to, lulling her to sleep. 

* * *

Alarms blare, red and loud, jerking her awake. 

_Again?_ This had only happened one other time before. A few days ago, not long after lights out, the alarms rang throughout the halls for a solid ten minutes before stopping. When she demanded answers the next time she saw the Feds, they told her it was just a ‘test run on the new security measures’ and not to worry. 

_What a load of shit._

She may be a slow starter when she wakes up, but she heard the footsteps running down the hall that night, the muffled arguing outside her door when they ran past. Something happened that they don’t want her to know about, and it was gnawing at her. 

This time, it only takes her a second to become conscious and aware of the situation enough to rush out of bed and to the door, pressing her ear against the cold steel. 

Nothing. 

She waits a few more moments, maybe a minute more before she hears a loud clank from the door unlocking from under her ear. Her hand slams down on the handle, and the door swings open. 

She can’t believe it. It only takes her one more second before she darts off in a random direction---left, she thinks---but it doesn’t really matter. One of these hallways has to lead her to someone, hopefully one of the eight and not some Fed. 

The only lights in the hall are the red alarms flashing. 

Sprinting through the halls, she is only half sure she isn’t going in a total circle. All she sees are grey wall after grey wall, no markings or even a helpful sign pointing to the “Rooms for the Unsinkable Eight.” 

At first she tries to be quiet, listening for the sound of heels or heavy leather shoes she knows the Feds wear. She tries a few door handles, finding them unlocked but no one inside. She doesn’t know how long she has before someone in a suit notices she isn’t in her room, so quiet is no longer an option. 

“Marty!”

A corner. The alarm overwhelms her yell, so she tries again, louder, voice cracking form lack of use. 

“MARTY!” 

Corner.

“SHELBY!” 

Empty hall. 

“FATIN!” 

Corner. 

“DOT!” 

More empty rooms.

“RACHEL!” 

Empty hall.

“LEAH!”

Corner.

“NORA!” 

A staircase. 

She jumps down the steps, two at a time. The lights are still flashing causing her to trip halfway down, cuffing her chin on the handrail, barely notices the stinging heat that spreads across the bottom of her face. She practically falls down the rest of the steps before she barrels through the door leading to what is hopefully not a wing full of Feds or doctors or anyone else. 

Almost as soon as she’s out the door she runs into a navy suit. Before she falls flat on her butt, a large, firm hand grabs her arm, steadying her. Looking into his wide eyes---Agent Young, she thinks his name is---her heart sinks to a place somewhere below even her stomach, maybe her feet, as she realizes that she lost her chance. He is going to lock her back in that room for who knows how long. A deep anger rises up from wherever her heart went. _Fuck this guy!_ She gets ready to tell him so before his grip tightens on her. 

“This way!” He pulls her by the arm down the hall while her feet fumble over themselves trying to right her balance. When she has sturdy footing again, she tugs her arm away from him as hard as she can, fighting against his grip and dragging her feet. 

“Let me go! I want to see Sh-them!” She curses herself under her breath, almost letting Shelby’s name slip out. There’s no way in hell she’s going to risk some Fed figuring out about Shelby. 

His grip only tightens. “They’re this way! Hurry!” 

She couldn’t have heard him right. The alarms must have warped his words. _Why the hell should I believe him?_

“Wh-” 

She’s cut off by a shout from down the hall that sounds so familiar she wants to cry. Chasing the sound, she breaks free of the Fed’s grip and is running past him down the hall. Rounding the corner, she finally sees them, all of them, illuminated by the flashing red and standing in front of an open door. 

“Toni!” 

She only stops after running head on into the semicircle, barely being able to make out who’s who in the darkness alternating with red flashes but she does know there’s seven. Everyone’s here. She grabs at anyone and everyone at once, and feeling their arms and hands grabbing her in turn. Their shouts grow louder as they welcome her, as Marty pulls her into a hug so tight and familiar, and Rachel tugs her further into the cluster. Fatin ruffles her hair like an asshole, and Nora for some reason is apologizing? Leah, Fatin, and Dot are arguing with the Fed about something. Toni’s still confused about what’s happening, and what they’re all doing out here, and why a _Fed_ is helping them, but for the next few moments she just wants to bask in the naturalness of the Unsinkable Eight being together again. 

They’re still shouting something about a helicopter and needing to leave “before she finds out.” Instead of asking what the hell is going on or who “she” is, she looks around at them all for her girlfriend’s matted head of blonde hair and panics. 

_Where’s Shelby?_

She tightens the hand into Dot’s shirt, her chest squeezing so tight the air slips out of her lungs. 

And then she hears her name in that throaty drawl, heated but oddly hesitant. Hands pull her closer to the door, until she is in front of the figure leaned against the frame. There she is, sporting a new buzz cut and her questioning eyes staring deep into Toni’s. Her eyes looked different, a new hardness in them. Shelby’s rough hands gently gripped her face, eyes roaming her face. Toni turned her face into Shelby’s trembling palm. _God_ , it felt so good to be close enough to touch her again. She places her own hands on the backs of Shelby’s, squeezing her hands. Her cheeks hurt with how wide her smile is. 

Before she throws her arms around Shelby and holds her for as long as she can, she stops herself. The Fed is still standing near them, speaking quickly to Leah and Nora, and too close for comfort. Shelby’s face falters, but, at Toni’s not subtle glance at the Fed, she understands. She gives her a small smile before leaning in, eyes roaming down the rest of her face before settling on her mouth. 

She stops. 

“W-What in God’s name happened to your face?” 

And, wow, that didn’t feel good, until she sees Shelby’s eyes are a mix of concern and confusion. Brows furrowed, she thumbs at her bottom lip, which Toni immediately leans into only for it to be gone a second later, covered in something dark even in the flashing lights. _Blood,_ she realizes. Must have been from when she hit her face, and only now, as the adrenaline is starting to ease away, does she notice the pulsing pain from her mouth and jaw. 

Shelby uses her sleeve to wipe away at the rest of her lip and chin, while her other thumb caresses her cheekbone. She stares into Toni’s eyes for a second more, confused, before suddenly snaps her gaze to the Fed, now shouting something at them all that they don’t care to listen to. Then back to Toni. Then back to the Fed. 

Her eyes are burning anger, on fire in a way Toni hasn’t ever seen in Shelby’s eyes. Her grip tightens. “ _Did he--_ ”

“No!” She reassures her, moving her hands to rub up and down Shelby’s arms. “No, I, uh, tripped a little down the stairs on my way here.” And, fuck, it’s so good to hear the breath of relief that Shelby lets out at that, before smiling her own wide smile and leaning her forehead against Toni’s. 

“God, I’m so glad you’re here.” Shelby says, barely audible among the chaos around them. “That I can see you.” 

“I’ve m-”

A new alarm goes off now, almost deafening. 

“SHELBY! TONI! NOW! WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW!” Leah screams into her ear, next to her but sounding like she’s behind a wall. Being reminded of the situation pumps adrenaline back into her system. Time to get the fuck out of here. 

She tightens her grip on Shelby and looks down at their feet. Shelby’s standing with her now wrapped ankle slightly lifted in the air, all her weight balanced on her left foot and shoulder against the frame helping to keep her steady. Toni immediately crouches down enough allowing Shelby, with help from Nora, to hop onto her back.

The Fed is guiding them through a door and into a side hall. It looks like the type of place they _definitely_ aren’t supposed to be, but Toni doesn’t fully pay attention, focusing on moving her feet below her and reaching the door at the end of the hall, bright white lights shining through the cracks. 

Bursting through the door, the humid air whipped around them and smacking their skin. In front of them are the same two helicopters that brought them here days ago. In the pilot’s seat of the one closest is some brown haired guy that looks vaguely familiar. He’s flipping switches and shouting into the microphone on his headset. 

They split into two groups with her, Shelby, Fatin, Marty, and Dot going in the first helicopter with the brown haired guy and Leah, Nora, and Rachel following the Fed to the other one. Toni and Fatin help Shelby up the stairs and into a seat on the first as the pilot hands them all headsets. 

It’s a flurry of activity and shouting but then they’re in the air and watching the bunker get smaller and farther away from them as they fly away, hopefully for home this time. 

* * *

On the helicopter, sandwiched between Shelby and Marty with one of their hands in each of her own, she leans her head back and breathes. Dot and Fatin sit across from them, leaning against each other, Dot’s head on Fatin’s shoulder, eyes closed. Shelby’s hand grips her so hard she’s pretty sure she won’t even need her seatbelt if they hit any turbulence. 

She makes sure the pilot isn’t paying attention before looking over to Shelby and reaching her hand to stroke the side of her jaw, which is a little awkward with the headset but Shelby still leans into it. Toni strokes her knuckle along the curve of her jaw before moving to the back of her neck, massaging the muscle there. When Toni’s fingers brush the short hairs on the back of her head, Shelby stiffens almost imperceptibly, but Toni notices. 

“The nurse had to shave it all off, said it was too matted to do much else,” Shelby explains, eyes flicking away for a second before looking back at Toni. “Does it look awful?” 

She brushes her fingers through the short strands even more, a soft smile on her lips. “No way,” she assures her. “It’s totally hardcore.” 

Shelby grips her hand even harder, a smile spreading across her face, big and open. She reaches her other hand up to hold Toni’s cheek, leaning in with Toni meeting her halfway until their lips press together so naturally and so perfectly. Shelby’s lips move against hers so softly, being mindful of her sore mouth, but Toni could care less about the pain or anything else that’s not the feel and smell of Shelby being so close again. 

“Do they always have to turn a life or death situation into some lovey-dovey moment?” Dot fake whispers to Fatin and Marty across from them. Fatin laughs. 

“Well, at least they stay on brand.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please let me know what you think!  
> tumblr: hadererer.tumblr.com


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